


The One Where Kylo Flies

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst without a specific ending, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Because he has to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is not happy please go in forewarned. I won't write a sequel. You can imagine a happy ending.

“It’s okay, look… see… I’ve programmed in the hyperspace jump. I can do that. We only took a _little_ damage when I pulled out of the bay… I’m sure if I can get us to somewhere they can dock with us in orbit and fix us…”  


So he’s a shit pilot. They’re still alive, aren’t they? They are. He’s also not sure if he’s still talking aloud or not, because his mind is running through things faster than it has any right to, his whole body is _singing_ with adrenaline and the aftermath of Force-lightning, and he’s nearly ready to howl hysterically like a Wookie.

“So we’re going… I don’t know actually, I was going to think on the hoof… we’re going… somewhere warm? You didn’t like the last one. Too cold. I know you didn’t like it because you never took your coat off even if you didn’t put your arms through your sleeves… I guess it would restrict you too much, or maybe you thought it made your shoulders look bigger. You only seem so slight because you’re tall, but you’re next to me and Phasma and that makes the optical illusion…”  


It hadn’t - he hadn’t planned for this. He’d walked in, bandaged, oozing, aching… ready to be reprimanded to within an inch of his life for his failures. Not - not - to be made to watch the General tortured for _his_.

It was one thing to suffer your own punishment, but it was a fresh horror (and likely planned) to witness that of someone you… someone you’d grown to… think less-aggressively about.

“Somewhere warm. Soft. Somewhere that does the brandy you like. You know. The one that smells like cat piss and engine oil. It probably tastes like it, too…”  


The silence is crushing, and Kylo’s voice creaks more and more. He can’t even feel an answering flicker in the Force. Every time he tries to reach out (and there’s Snoke, looming, whenever he does) there’s nothing but static. The General’s mind had screamed with his tongue right up until Kylo had charged between him and the Leader, taking the last of the lighting intended for him.

_Finish your training. Strike him down._

_He isn’t my Master._

_**I** am. Strike him down._

_There is no need!_

_**You will do as you are told!** _

How many times has Kylo been given that warning, by how many people? Too many. Way, way too many. It was always wrong to challenge him, because - well - that was when he’d flip. Dare him, contradict him, and he’d bust your nose to make a point.

(Not that it was the reason, this time, behind his disobedience. The reason was he hated the sounds Hux made, and he hated the waves of pain in the Force, and he’d - the man was loyal! So loyal! To kill him made no sense, and Kylo… he… he liked him! Sort of. Sometimes. He _liked_ him, and he would rather he _didn’t die_.)

**KILL. HIM.**

The agony of rejection had nearly killed Kylo. He’d hurled the ceiling down on Snoke, buying himself time, and run with the man over his shoulder. Run, run, and found the first ship he had half a chance of flying. Skimmed through nearby minds enough to guide him out of the hangar, and then punch the hyperspace jump (the only thing he _did_ know how to do). 

Which led to now. Sitting here, jittering like a baby given caf. Hux isn’t stirring. Kylo’s hands shake, and he sits on them, glancing to the co-pilot’s chair, where the defrocked General hangs, droops, drops. 

 _Please don’t be gone. I’m sorry. I should have stepped in sooner_.

“So we’ll go - we’ll… hot. Yes. So you don’t have to wear your coat. Maybe you’ll even undo the top button, haha. I’ve got a lot of room to talk. You’d say that. Tell me I walk around in my mask…”   


He can even hear it, down to the words, the inflection, all of it. The sneer. The lowered brow. But it’s just his internalised Hux, not the man who is barely still that. 

“…I know you wanted to stay, but it wasn’t really… I - you wouldn’t have said yes if I asked you, you loved the Order, and now I’ve taken you away from…” Everything he’d ever believed in.   


(The nights he had wondered, daydreamed, played make believe…)

“But I couldn’t let him kill you, or make me kill you. You’re probably wondering why. I mean, we barely were more than colleagues to you, I guess, but you were the person I spoke to most and you might have been annoyed with me all the time but I actually valued your company and I was terrible at showing it and I just didn’t know what to do because anyone I get close to either dies or hates me or both and I thought you really already hated me so I didn’t want to shatter my fake bubble of ‘maybe we could be friends some day if I sneak it up on you’…”  


Hux is still not there. Kylo is spilling his whole heart out to a vegetable. It’s both terrifying and horrifying; he’s ashamed and afraid and disgusted with himself. What if Hux wakes and remembers? What if he wakes and doesn’t? _What if he never wakes at all_?

“Please… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I never told you. Please. I’ll take you wherever you want to go… just come back to me?”   


Silence. Kylo feels the need to light his saber. To strike out. To cut through durasteel and scream. He’s captive, here, and any damage to the ship vastly reduces their chances of survival. (Not that they’re very good to begin with.)

“Hux… I’m sorry. I’m…” He hasn’t said that word, ‘sorry’, not since the Leader punished him as a child. It’s not slipped out, even in jest, since then. The weight of it pins him to his seat, and he’s as immobilised as Hux himself.  


_I’m sorry. Please. Come back. Come back. I need you. I can’t do this without you. I did this for you._

If nothing else, at least… at least Hux is no longer in pain. He holds onto that, if nothing more.

_Wake up. Wake up. WAKE. UP._


End file.
